As the mass of readers may, on a broad scale, be divided into two
classes; those who read for amusement only, and those who read for
information and instruction; so also may the writers be ranged,
under those who address themselves to the imagination, and those who
endeavour to direct the understanding. But, however we may, among
the former, wish, for the sake of perspicuity of system, to class
them under these distinct heads, we shall probably often find a
combination of both in the same person. There are very few, it is to
be feared, whose anxiety for knowledge is so strong, that they seek
it in its most rugged and intricate paths, unless incited to the
pursuit by the powerful motives of interest or ambition. While among
the more numerous class, although amusement be their predominant
principle, yet many wish to find information and instruction amidst
their pleasures; and most, if their choice be not very unfortunate,
be their wishes what they may, cannot avoid picking up and retaining
something by the way, that may stimulate the understanding, or
expand the heart. Surely then such writers, I will not say, “who
enlist the imagination under the banners of science,” for with
much ultimate success that perhaps is impossible, but who blend
moral instruction and useful information with amusing tales, have
some merit. And when a work even does more than this, when it
contains a correct delineation, and gives a detailed account of the
peculiar manners, customs, and modes of life, of a part of the globe
in which some of the most singular nations of the earth once
flourished, its merit is infinitely great, and it deserves the
perusal and attention of every one. And such a work, in the fullest
extent, is the Arabian Nights; which is more descriptive of the
people, customs, and conduct of Eastern countries during the middle
ages, than any other existing work; and, as far as other writers or
travellers have investigated these subjects, so far have the
correctness and authenticity of this work been confirmed.
I know the Arabian Nights have been formerly regarded as a literary
forgery; and considered merely as a collection of tales, in which
the marvellous and absurd have been even clumsily mixed up with
scraps of eastern manners, and as calculated only for the amusement
of children. But, however people may differ as to the greater or
less degree of merit of the work itself, there is, I believe, hardly
any one who now questions its authenticity: and I shall take the
liberty not only of quoting some authors, who have spoken much in
its favor, but also of mentioning some individuals now alive, whose
talents will, it is presumed, give great weight to their testimony.
The original Arabic work is much more voluminous than M. Galland’s
translation; but I have very high authority for asserting, that he
has selected all the best and most interesting tales. At the
conclusion of a translation of some tales and anecdotes, from the
Arabic and Persian, by Jonathan Scott, Esq. this gentleman states,
that he has purchased of Dr. White, professor of Arabic, in the
University of Oxford, seven volumes of Arabic manuscript tales,
which were brought over from Turkey by Edward Wortley Montague, Esq.
and that these tales are not in Galland. The size of these seven
volumes is not mentioned, and it is impossible, therefore, to judge
of the quantity they contain. In the catalogue of Oriental
manuscripts belonging to Mr. Montague, and sold by auction in 1787,
was one called, “The Arabian Tales, of one thousand and one
nights, in _six volumes complete_.”
These Tales were purchased at Mr. Montague’s sale by Dr. White,
and were afterwards transferred to Mr. Scott, as mentioned by him at
the end of his volume of Translations, published in 1800. And I
believe they will soon be deposited in the Bodleian library at
Oxford. They contain many other tales besides those which M. Galland
has translated; but most of those which he has omitted, are not near
so entertaining as the tales he translated, although there are some
equally so. In a work, indeed, of so great an extent, equality of
excellence could not perhaps be expected. Certainly not, when we
consider the tales as the work of different authors. It is, indeed,
the opinion of a gentleman of very extensive Oriental knowledge,
that the Arabian Nights originally consisted of not more perhaps
than a fourth part of the manuscript purchased by Dr. White; but
that writers in various parts of the East, where the Mussulman
religion prevailed, have added to them so as to complete the
thousand and one nights, which I believe to be the division of those
Tales formerly in the possession of Dr. White. In a copy of the
Arabic work, which is in the possession of Dr. Russel, the number of
nights is about two hundred only; and it is also a doubt, whether
the manuscripts either in the Vatican or in the Royal Library at
Paris are complete.
It is the opinion of most Oriental scholars, that no two copies will
be found exactly to correspond, even in the original contracted
work, and still less so in the more enlarged manuscripts. The
original work has probably been frequently increased, through the
different provinces and kingdoms of the east, by the addition of
such tales as were popular in each, either as a continuation, or
blended into one work. For this reason the copy of Cairo will be
found to differ from that of Constantinople. This also is a very
strong reason, and amply accounts for any difference there may be in
the same story, as literally translated by Mr. Richardson at the end
of his Arabic Grammar, and as given by M. Galland. The former made
use of a manuscript belonging to Sir William Jones; the latter
translated from that in the king’s library at Paris. The copy also
which was formerly in the possession of Dr. White, has the signature
of the person who transcribed it, and of the family to which he
belonged; namely, “Omar al Siftee;” but it has not the name of
the place where he resided; it is now, therefore, impossible to
ascertain the place whence Mr. Montague procured the manuscript.
Many of the tales, also omitted by Galland, besides those which are
uninteresting, are extremely indelicate, both as to language and
sentiments, and consequently very unfit for the perusal of a chaste
and discerning public.
There have also been four volumes of tales published, as the
continuation of the Arabian Nights, and which M. Galland did not
translate, although the Arabic manuscript of the whole, as the
French translator states, was brought over, and placed in the
library of the king of France at the same time. This latter French
work has since been published in English. These, however, are
universally believed to be spurious, and the work of an European.
Abundant evidence might be given of this, were I inclined to enter
into the question. I shall only mention one instance.--An
inhabitant of the country where the fact happened, is made to
express the greatest astonishment at an appearance the most common.
“What a thick infectious mist! How could it arise from dry sand,
destitute of water! It is a very extraordinary phenomenon!” The
man who wrote this could never have been in Arabia, nor even have
consulted modern travellers, or he would have known, that this
appearance is most frequent: and I cannot here resist giving, in
proof of this, the words of an early Arabian poet, as beautifully
translated by that elegant scholar, Professor Carlyle, whose death
must be considered by all as a severe loss, from the elegance and
refinement of his cultivated mind. I must be permitted to transcribe
the whole of this exquisite little poem. The passage alluded to is
in the last stanza but one. It is an elegy by Lebid Ben Rabiat
Alamary, a native of Yeman, and a contemporary with Mahomet, to whom
he was an early convert. “This elegy, as is evident from its
nature, must have been written previous to Lebid’s change of
religion. Its subject is one that must ever interest a feeling
mind--the return of a person, after a long absence, to a place
where he had spent his early years. It is, in fact, an Arabian
Deserted Village.”
Those dear abodes, which once contain’d the fair,
Amidst Mitata’s wilds I seek in vain;
Nor towers, nor tents, nor cottages are there,
But scatter’d ruins, and a silent plain.
The proud canals, that once Rayanna grac’d,
Their course neglected and their waters gone,
Among the levell’d sands are dimly trac’d,
Like moss-grown letters on a mouldering stone.
Rayanna say, how many a tedious year
Its hallow’d circle o’er our heads hath roll’d,
Since to my vows thy tender maids gave ear,
And fondly listen’d to the tale I told?
How oft, since then, the star of spring, that pours
A never-failing stream, hath drench’d thy head?
How oft the summer’s cloud, in copious showers,
Or gentle drops, its genial influence shed?
How oft, since then, the hovering mist of morn,
Hath caus’d thy locks with glittering gems to glow?
How oft, hath eve her dewy treasure borne
To fall responsive to the breeze below?
The matted thistles, bending to the gale,
Now clothe those meadows once with verdure gay;
Amidst the windings of that lonely vale,
The teeming antelope and ostrich stray:
The large-eyed mother of the herd, that flies
Man’s noisy haunts, here finds a sure retreat,
Here tends her clustering young, till age supplies
Strength to their limbs and swiftness to their feet.
Save where the swelling stream hath swept those walls,
And giv’n their deep foundations to the light
(As the retouching pencil that recalls
A long-lost picture to the raptur’d sight:)
Save where the rains have wash’d the gather’d sand,
And bared the scanty fragments to our view,
(As the [a] dust sprinkled on a punctur’d hand
Bids the faint tints resume their azure hue.)
No mossy record of those once-lov’d seats
Points out the mansion to inquiring eyes;
No tottering wall, in echoing sounds, repeats
Our mournful questions and our bursting sighs.
Yet midst those ruin’d heaps, that naked plain,
Can faithful memory former scenes restore,
Recall the busy throng, the jocund train,
And picture all that charm’d us there before
Ne’er shall my heart the fatal morn forget,
That bore the fair-ones from these seats so dear--
I see, I see the crowding litters yet,
And yet the tent-poles rattle in my ear.
I see the maids with timid steps ascend,
The streamers wave in all their painted pride;
The floating curtains every fold extend,
And vainly strive the charms within to hide.
What graceful forms those envious folds enclose!
What melting glances thro’ those curtains play!
Sure Weira’s antelopes, or Tudah’s roes
Through yonder veils their sportive young survey.
The band mov’d on--to trace their steps I strove;
I saw them urge the camel’s hastening flight;
Till the white [b] vapour, like a rising grove,
Snatch’d them for ever from my aching sight.
Nor since that morn have I Nawara seen,
The hands are burst, which held us once so fast;
Memory but tells me that such things have been,
And sad reflection adds, that they are past.
“The Arabians,” says Mr. Hole, who has written very ingeniously
upon the subject of one of the tales in the Arabian Nights, and whom
I shall more than once take the liberty of consulting, “are
described by writers, who have personally visited them, as an acute
and sensible people, and this performance, (the present work) was
probably composed not many centuries after that period, when they
had added to their native stores of education, those of ancient
Greece. To them we are chiefly indebted for the preservation of
those valuable remains of antiquity: and so fully established was
their literary reputation in former days, that, when Europe was
immersed in barbarism, all polite learning passed under the
designation of _Studia Arabum_.” (Vide Blackwall’s Letters on
Mythology.)
“In the eighth, ninth, and succeeding centuries, when the European
world, (says Mr. Richardson, in the preface to his Arabic Grammar)
was clouded with barbarity and ignorance; when sovereign princes and
great feudal lords could neither write nor read, the Arabians
rivalled the Romans of the Augustan age in erudition and genius;
whilst, with a more extensive empire, [c] they excelled them in
magnificence, and in the more refined splendour and elegance of
life. The khalifs Al Modhi, Al Rashid, Al Mamoun, and other monarchs
of the illustrious house of Al Abbas, were men of learning, genius,
and politeness; learning and genius were found therefore the surest
avenues to royal favor; they were consequently universally
cultivated; princes, generals, and viziers being not only munificent
patrons of literary merit, but holding themselves a conspicuous rank
among writers of the most distinguished class.
“The Arabian chiefs, (with, it must be confessed, an alloy of
ferocity) were in general brave, liberal, hospitable, ingenious,
penetrating, fond of learning of every species, and carrying, to the
most singular excess, their admiration of poetry and eloquence. With
such dispositions and attachments, therefore, it is easy to
conceive, that their language became naturally an important object
of their attention. The dialects of their numerous tribes furnished
them with rich mines: from these they freely borrowed; and formed,
from the whole, a language, sublime, comprehensive, copious,
energetic, delicate, majestic; adapted equally for the softness of
love, or the poignancy of satire; for the mournfulness of elegy, or
the grandeur of heroics; for the simplest tale, or the boldest
effort of rhetoric.
“In every stile of composition, therefore, the books in this
language are numerous, and many of them of high intrinsic worth;
their books, however, and their language, remain still but
imperfectly known in Europe; nor can we ever hope, perhaps, for much
advancement in this branch of learning, till the formidable fancied
difficulties of the study are removed; till curiosity is stimulated
by a hope of success; till attention is fixed by a conviction of its
utility.”
The Augustan age of Arabian literature may be considered to have
been about the time that the power of the caliphs was at its height,
and this was about the 170th year of the Hegira, and the 701st of
the Christian Æra, and during the reign of Haroun Alraschid, who
bears so conspicuous a part in these volumes, and of his immediate
successors. “The monarchs themselves,” says Professor Carlyle,
“loved and cultivated the sciences; the ministers followed their
example; and men of genius flocked to the court of Bagdad, from all
parts of the world, with an assurance of receiving those honors and
rewards which their abilities merited. The empire of the Khaliphs
was at this time one of the most powerful that has ever existed; it
extended, in Asia, from the gulph of Persia and the confines of
Tartary to the Mediterranean and Indian seas, and comprehended all
the habitable part of Africa, from the isthmus of Suez to the
Atlantic Ocean.” And it was probably not long after this, that
most of these tales were written, for I believe it is generally
supposed, that they were not all the production of one author, or of
one age.
Of the tales themselves, I do not mean to enter into a long and
minute investigation; although such an investigation would be, if
well conducted, highly amusing, and at the same time instructive.
But to carry on an inquiry of this sort, to the extent it ought,
would require great research and labour, and would in itself form a
separate work. Mr. Hole has even produced a small volume in the
illustration only of one story, which occupies not more than the
fifth part of one volume of the present tales. All the peculiarities
and customs, which are mentioned in the Arabian Nights, might be
illustrated by similar peculiarities and customs, which are not only
known to have existed among the very people, of whom this work
delineates the manners, at the very time when the work itself was
composed, but which also still exist among the same nations. Such an
inquiry too would tend to explain some parts of the present work,
which must, without it, now appear, if not absurd, at least
unaccountable. To shew, however, that even the most common things
are not inserted without a motive, and to illustrate what might be
otherwise considered as ridiculous, I shall give one or two
instances of the manner of investigation and sort of illustration
proposed.
In the story of the Merchant and Genius, Vol. I. page 29, the latter
says, “I have sworn to kill thee, as thou hast killed my son; for
whilst thou was throwing about the stones of the dates thou hadst
eaten, my son passed by, and one of them struck him in the eye and
caused his death.” Now this, at first sight, seems a singular, if
not a ridiculous thing; but even this has its foundation in an
Eastern custom. There are accounts (and I speak upon the authority
of Warren Hastings, Esq. than whom no one is better acquainted with
Oriental manners and history; and whose name is almost reverenced
throughout that quarter of the world,) there are accounts of people
having been killed by date stones, which were shot at them in a
particular manner with both hands. Those persons who are in the
habit of doing this, will send the stone with such velocity as to
give a most violent blow. And it is in this manner that prisoners
have sometimes been put to death: a man sits down at a little
distance from the object he intends to destroy, and then attacks him
by repeatedly shooting at him with the stone of the date, thrown
from his two fore-fingers; and in this way puts an end to his life.
--The former translation, by calling these stones, the “shells”
of the date, besides totally mistaking the fact, dates having no
shells but only stones, makes complete nonsense of the tale.
Thus, too, in the story of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves, in Vol.
IV. Morgiana says, that she knew the man she had killed to be a
robber, who had come with the intention of murdering her master,
because he eat no salt at supper. Now this in itself is perfectly
unintelligible: but when we find it to be a custom among the
Arabians, and some other Easter nations, that, if any one eat salt
at another’s table, it is a sure pledge of the honor and integrity
of the guest, and for the safety of the host, and that even a robber
will not then break the laws of hospitality, every thing is
explained; and the Author’s local knowledge and veracity are
authenticated.
I must add one other singular instance. In the story of Sidi Nouman,
Vol. IV. page 183, after he has been changed into a dog by his wife
Aminè, there is a long account of his treatment, particularly by
one person, who, though he gives him food in the street, yet is
distressed at his getting into his house; and who is one of those
who think, “that water and soap enough cannot be found to wash
their clothes, if a dog has touched them.” Yet this very man threw
the nicest pieces to him the next morning, when with other dogs he
was waiting before the door. The following extract from the Travels
in the East of M. Olivier, in 1793, will illustrate the circumstance.
“Although Mussulmen consider dogs as unclean animals, so much so
that they avoid touching them, and prevent them from entering into
their houses, yet they suffer them to breed considerably in most
towns.
“The charity of the Turks in regard to them, consists in giving
them sometimes bread, and what they cannot consume, in distributing
to them daily the liver, lights, entrails, and head of the sheep
which are killed in the slaughter-houses, because they never make
use of those aliments, proscribed by their religion, and because the
Christians, following their example, dare not eat them. Every day
are seen in the streets men carrying on a long pole a great number
of these livers and lights, in order to sell them at one or two sous
to the devout and rich, who may be desirous of regaling with them
the dogs of their neigbourhood.
“There are persons, who cause to be built near the door of their
houses, huts for the purpose of lodging bitches and their young:
they carry thither straw, and give them every day bread or meat. It
is even said, that some have, on their death-bed, left legacies for
the support of a certain number of these animals.”
Numerous also are the places where facts are mentioned, which are
similar to others in works of authority. In the history of Codadad,
Vol. III. p. 277, there is a custom, similar to that mentioned in
the New Testament, of wiping the feet with the hair, as a mark of
respect, where a woman, who was a sinner, wipes the feet of our
Saviour. Luke, chap. vii. ver. 38, and John xii. v. 3. Thus in the
story, “O, prince, what is there we can do for you? If either
prayers or knowledge could restore you to life, we would wipe your
feet with our white beards, we would address you in speeches of
wisdom: but the King of the Universe has taken you away for ever.
Again, also, in the History of Schemselnihar and the prince of
Persia, when the former was told that the caliph was coming to visit
her, she ordered the paintings on silk, which were in the garden, to
be taken down. In the same manner are paintings, or hangings, used
in the Old Testament, where it is said, “The women wove hangings
for the grove.” II. Kings, xxiii. v. 7.
It is in this manner that Mr. Hole proceeds to illustrate the seven
voyages of Sindbad, which he calls the “Arabian Odyssey:” and by
quoting from the different authors he has consulted for the
occasion, accounts for, and sometimes even justifies, the most
singular and extraordinary circumstances. I will here give an
instance, which relates to that immense bird, the rock, which is
also mentioned in various other places. Sindbad, in his second
voyage, after trading successfully to different islands, lands on
one abounding in fruit-trees, and meadows with streams running
through them. He and his companions sit down by the side of a river,
when Sindbad falls fast asleep, and on waking, finds himself
deserted, and the ship making sail at a distance from the island.
“You may easily imagine,” says Sindbad (Vol. I. p. 240), “the
reflections that occurred to me in this dismal state. I thought I
should have died with grief; I groaned and cried aloud; I beat my
head, and threw myself on the ground, where I remained a long time
overwhelmed with a confusion of thoughts, each more distressing than
the other: I reproached myself a thousand times for my folly, in not
being contented with my first voyage, which ought to have satisfied
my desire of seeking adventures; but all my regrets were of no
avail, and my repentance came too late. At length I resigned myself
to the will of Heaven; and not knowing what would become of me, I
ascended a high tree, from whence I looked on all sides, to see if I
could not discover some object to inspire me with hope. Casting my
eyes towards the sea, I could discover nothing but water and sky,
but perceiving on the land side something white, I descended from
the tree, and taking with me the remainder of my provisions, I
walked towards the object, which was so distant that I could not
distinguish what it was. As I approached, I perceived it to be a
large white ball, of a prodigious size, and when I got near enough
to touch it, I found it was soft. I walked round it to see if there
were an opening, but could find none; and it appeared so even, that
it was impossible to get up it. The circumference might be about
fifty paces.
“The sun was then near setting; the air grew suddenly dark, as if
obscured by a thick cloud. I was surprised at this change, but much
more so when I perceived it to be occasioned by a bird of a most
extraordinary size, which was flying towards me. I recollected
having heard sailors speak of a bird called a rock; and I conceived,
that the great white ball, which had drawn my attention, must be the
egg of this bird. I was not mistaken; for shortly after it lighted
on it, and placed itself as if to sit upon it. When I saw it coming
I drew near to the egg, so that I had one of the claws of the bird
just before me; this claw was as big as the trunk of a large tree.
“I tied myself to it with the linen of my turban, in hopes that
the rock, when it took its flight the next morning, would carry me
with it out of that desert island. My project succeeded; for at the
break of day the rock flew away, and carried me to such a height,
that I could not distinguish the earth: then it descended with such
rapidity, that I almost lost my senses. When the rock had alighted,
I quickly untied the knot that confined me to its foot, and had
scarcely loosed myself, when it darted on a serpent, of an
immeasurable length, and seizing it in its beak, flew away.”
“If any one choose, (says Mr. Hole,) to look into Bochart’s
Hierozoicon, [d] he may find a more extravagant account of this
bird, extracted from Arabian authors, than what is here given by
Sindbad. Marco Paulo de Veneto, [e] a celebrated traveller in the
13th century, has a whole chapter “de maximâ ave Ruch.” [f] He
there says, that this bird was occasionally found in islands
difficult of access, which lie towards the south of Madagascar; that
some people, who had seen it, affirmed, that the wing feathers were
twelve paces in length, and all the other parts correspondent to
them. These birds, he adds, would sometimes seize and fly away with
an elephant, on whose flesh they usually fed: and that he acquired
his information from an officer of the great Khan, who had been
confined many years in one of those islands.
“Though this account of the officer was highly exaggerated, it was
probably built on some foundation in truth. Pigafetta mentions, that
he had heard there were fowls of such strength and magnitude near
the gulf of China, as to be capable of carrying large animals [g]
through the air: and that a bird, of stupendous size, exists in the
southern parts of the Indian ocean, appears from the testimony of an
English navigator, whose veracity is as unquestionable as his
professional abilities. It is mentioned in Dr. Kippis’s Life of
Cook, “that he found in an island, not far from New Holland, a
bird’s nest, which was built with sticks upon the ground, and was
no less than six and twenty feet in circumference, and two feet
eight inches in height.”
In this manner might the whole work be gone through. And this mode
of illustration would have been farther advantageous than what I
have here pointed out. If diligently pursued, it might lead to
interesting discoveries, relative to the progress of ideas from one
nation to another. A scientific translator would not only be induced
to trace many of these stories to a classic origin; but likewise to
retrace some of the classic fictions to their primitive Eastern
derivation.
In the middle ages the Arabians borrowed largely from the Greeks;
and the latter, in much earlier times, derived from the banks of the
Ganges, and not unfrequently through the medium of Egypt, the
greater part of their literature and mythology. This fact seems to
be clearly ascertained by late translations from the ancient writers
of India; and from them the Arabs appear some times to have adopted
directly, without the intervention of any other medium, many
imaginary occurrences and popular tales. [h]
I shall now cite a few authors who have spoken of the Arabian Nights
as containing faithful delineations of the manners and customs of
Oriental nations; and begin with our fair countrywoman, Lady Mary
Wortley Montague, from whose entertaining, and I believe accurate,
letters I shall make two extracts. The first describes her visit to
the wife of the second officer in the Turkish empire.
“I went to visit the Kahya’s lady, and was met at the door by
two black eunuchs, who led me through a long gallery, between two
ranks of beautiful young girls, with their hair finely platted,
almost hanging to their feet, all dressed in fine light damasks,
brocaded with silver. I was sorry that decency did not permit me to
stop to consider them nearer; but that thought was lost upon my
entrance into a large room, or pavilion, built round with gilded
sashes, which were most of them thrown up; and the trees, planted
near them, gave an agreeable shade, which hindered the sun from
being troublesome. The jessamines and honeysuckles that twisted
round their trunks, shed a soft perfume, increased by a white marble
fountain, playing sweet water in the lower part of the room, which
fell into three or four basons with a pleasing sound. The roof was
painted with all sorts of flowers, falling out of gilded baskets,
that seemed tumbling down. On a sofa, raised three steps, and
covered with fine Persian carpets, sat the Kahya’s lady, leaning
on cushions of while satin embroidered; and at her feet sat two
young girls, about twelve years old, lovely as angels, dressed
perfectly rich, and almost covered with jewels. But they were hardly
seen near the fair Fatima, (for that was her name,) so much her
beauty effaced every thing I have seen, nay, all that has been
called lovely either in England or Germany. I must own, that I never
saw any thing so gloriously beautiful, nor can I recollect a face
that would have been taken notice of near her’s. She stood up to
receive me, saluting me after their fashion, by putting her hand to
her heart with a sweetness full of majesty, that no court breeding
could ever give. She ordered cushions to be given me; and took care
to place me in the corner, which is the place of honor. I confess,
though the Greek lady had before given me a great opinion of her
beauty, I was struck with admiration, that I could not, for some
time, speak to her, being wholly taken up in gazing. That surprising
harmony of features! That charming result of the whole! That lovely
bloom of complexion, unsullied by art! The unutterable enchantment
of her smile!--But her eyes!--Large and black, with all the soft
languishment of the blue! every turn of her face discovering some
new grace.
“She was dressed in a caftan of gold brocade, flowered with
silver, very well fitted to her shape, and shewing to advantage the
beauty of her bosom, only shaded by the thin gauze of her shift. Her
drawers were pale pink, her waistcoat green and silver, her slippers
white satin, finely embroidered; her lovely arms adorned with
bracelets of diamonds, and her broad girdle set round with diamonds;
upon her head a rich Turkish handkerchief of pink and silver, her
own fine black hair hanging a great length, in various tresses, and
on one side of her head some bodkins of jewels. I am afraid you will
accuse me of extravagance in this description. I think I have read
some where, that women always speak in rapture, when they speak of
beauty; and I cannot imagine why they should not be allowed to do
so. I rather think it a virtue to be able to admire, without any
mixture of desire or envy.
“The gravest writers have spoke with great warmth of some
celebrated pictures and statues. The workmanship of Heaven certainly
excells all our weak imitations; and, I think, has a much better
claim to our praise. For my part, I am not ashamed to own, I took
more pleasure in looking on the beauteous Fatima, than the finest
piece of sculpture could have given me. She told me the two girls at
her feet were her daughters, though she appeared too young to be
their mother. Her fair maids were ranged below the sofa, to the
number of twenty, and put me in mind of the pictures of the ancient
nymphs. I did not think all nature could have furnished such a scene
of beauty. She made them a sign to play and dance. Four of them
immediately began to play soft airs on instruments between a lute
and a guitar, which they accompanied with their voices, while the
others danced by turns.
“When I took my leave, two maids brought in a fine silver basket
of embroidered handkerchiefs; she begged I would wear the richest
for her sake, and gave the others to my women and interpretress.--I
retired through the same ceremonies as before, and could not help
thinking I had been some time in Mahomet’s paradise, so much I was
charmed with what I had seen.”
How similar are most parts of this account to various descriptions
in these tales! And in the passage which follows we have an equally
similar representation of the splendour, magnificence, and richness
of eastern dresses. It is an account of Lady M. W. Montagu’s visit
to the sultana Hafiten, the late favourite of sultan Mustapha, after
the death of the latter.
“I was led into a large room, with a sofa the whole length of it,
adorned with white marble pillars like a _ruelle_, covered with pale
blue-figured velvet, on a silver ground, with cushions of the same,
where I was desired to repose till the sultana appeared, who had
contrived this manner of reception to avoid rising at my entrance;
though she made me an inclination of her head, when I rose up to
her. I was very glad to observe a lady, that had been distinguished
by the favour of an emperor, to whom beauties were, every day,
presented from all parts of the world. But she did not seem to me to
have ever been so beautiful as the fair Fatima I saw at Adrianople;
though she had the remains of a fine face, more decayed by sorrow
than time. But her dress was something so surprisingly rich, that I
cannot forbear describing it to you. She wore a vest called Dualma,
which differs from a caftan by longer sleeves, and folding over at
the bottom. It was of purple cloth, strait to her shape, and thick
set, on each side down to her feet and round the sleeves, with
pearls of the best water, of the same size as their buttons commonly
are, about the bigness of a pea; and to these buttons, large loops
of diamonds in the form of those gold loops, so common on birthday
coats. This habit was tied at the waist, with two large tassels of
smaller pearls, and round the arms embroidered with large diamonds.
Her shift was fastened at the bottom with a large diamond, shaped
like a lozenge; her girdle, as broad as the broadest English
ribband, entirely covered with diamonds. Round her neck she wore
three chains, which reached to her knees; one of large pearls, at
the bottom of which hung a fine coloured emerald, as big as a
turkey’s egg; another, consisting of two hundred emeralds close
joined together, of the most lively green, perfectly matched, every
one as large as a half-crown piece, and as thick as three crown
pieces; and another of small emeralds perfectly round. But her
earrings eclipsed all the rest. They were two diamonds, shaped
exactly like pears, as large as a big hazelnut. Round her talpoche
she had four strings of pearl, the whitest and most perfect in the
world, fastened with two roses, consisting of a large ruby for the
middle stone, and round them twenty drops of clear diamonds to each.
Besides this, her head-dress was covered with bodkins of emeralds
and diamonds. She wore large diamond bracelets, and had five rings
on her fingers, (except Mr. Pitt’s) the largest I ever saw in my
life. ’Tis for jewellers to compute the value of these things;
but, according to the common estimation of jewels in our part of the
world, her whole dress must be worth a hundred thousand pounds
sterling. This I am sure of, that no European queen has half the
quantity, and the Empress’s jewels, though very fine, would look
very mean near her’s. She gave me a dinner of fifty dishes of
meat, which (after their fashion) were placed on the table one at a
time, and were extremely tedious. But the magnificence of her table
answered very well to that of her dress. The knives were of gold,
and the hafts set with diamonds. But the piece of luxury which
grieved my eyes, was the table-cloth and napkins, which were all
tiffany, embroidered with silk and gold, in the finest manner, in
natural flowers. It was with the utmost regret that I made use of
these costly napkins, which were as finely wrought as the finest
handkerchiefs that ever came out of this country. You may be sure
that they were entirely spoiled before dinner was over. The sherbet
(which is the liquor they drink with their meals) was served in
china bowls; but the covers and salvers massy gold. After dinner,
water was brought in gold basons, and towels of the same kind with
the napkins, which I very unwillingly wiped my hands upon; and
coffee was served in china with gold soucoups.
“When I took my leave of her, I was complimented with perfumes, as
at the grand’s vizier’s, and presented with a very fine
embroidered handkerchief. Her slaves were to the number of thirty,
besides ten little ones, the eldest not above seven years old. These
were the most beautiful girls I ever saw, all richly dressed: and I
observed, that the sultana took a great deal of pleasure in these
lovely children, which is a vast expense; for there is not a
handsome girl of that age to be bought under a hundred pounds
sterling. They wore little garlands of flowers, and their own hair
braided, which was all their head-dress, but their habits were all
of gold stuffs. These served her coffee, kneeling; brought water
when she washed, &c. &c. ’Tis a great part of the business of the
older slaves, to take care of these young girls, to teach them to
embroider, and to serve them as carefully as if they were children
of the family. Now do you imagine I have entertained you, all this
while, with a relation that has, at least, received many
embellishments from my hand? This, you will say, is but too like the
Arabian Tales. Those embroidered napkins! and a jewel as large as a
turkey’s egg?--You forget, dear sister, those very tales were
written by an author of this country, and (except the enchantments)
are a real representation of the manners here. We travellers are in
very hard circumstances. If we say nothing but what has been said
before us, we are dull, and we have observed nothing. If we tell any
thing new, we are laughed at as fabulous and romantic, not allowing
either for the difference of ranks, which afford difference of
company, or more curiosity, or the change of customs, that happens
every twenty years in every country. But the truth is, people judge
of travellers exactly with the same candour, good-nature, and
impartiality, they judge of their neighbours upon all occasions. For
my part, if I live to return amongst you, I am so well acquainted
with the morals of all my dear friends and acquaintances, that I am
resolved to tell them nothing at all, to avoid the imputation,
(which their charity would certainly incline them to) of my telling
too much. But, I depend upon your knowing me enough, to believe
whatever I seriously assert for truth; though I give you leave to be
surprised at an account so new to you. But what would you say, if I
told you, that I have been in a Haram, where the winter apartment
was wainscotted with inlaid work of mother-of-pearl, ivory of
different colours, and olive wood, exactly like the little boxes you
have seen brought out of this country; and in those rooms designed
for summer, the walls are all crusted with Japan china, the roofs
gilt, and the floors spread with the finest Persian carpets; yet
there is nothing more true; such is the palace of my lovely friend,
the fair Fatima.” I trust, the amusing style and singular nature
of these extracts will fully justify the length of them.
Mr. Dallaway, in his late work, called “Constantinople, antient
and modern,” has the following passage. “Much of the romantic
air which pervades the domestic habits of the persons described in
the Arabian Nights, particularly in inferior life, will be observed
in passing through the streets of Constantinople. And we receive,
with additional pleasure, a remembrance of the delight with which we
at first perused them, in finding them authentic portraits of every
Oriental nation.” Thus, also, and in strong terms, speak the
authors of the British Critic. “This work has been admired, and
always will, for the simplicity of its narrative, combined with all
that the most luxuriant imagination can require; for the accuracy of
its representation of Oriental manners, and for the interest and
curiosity it awakens in the learned and unlearned, the young and the
old. And we have known some of the most grave, and most learned men
retain, with delight, the impression made by these volumes.”
In some observations on the passage to India, Colonel Capper speaks
in the highest terms, and gives an animated account of the power
which these tales still possess over the minds of the Arabs. “The
Arabian Nights,” says he, “contain much curious and useful
observation. They are by many people erroneously supposed to be a
spurious production, and are therefore slighted in a manner they do
not deserve. They were written by an Arabian, and are universally
read and admired throughout Asia, by all ranks of men, both old and
young: considered, therefore, as an original work, descriptive, as
they are, of the manners and customs of the East in general, and
also of the Arabians in particular, they surely must be thought to
merit the attention of the curious, nor are they, in my opinion,
destitute of merit in other respects; for although the extravagance
of some of the stories is carried too far, yet, on the whole, one
cannot help admiring the fancy and invention of the author, in
striking out such a variety of pleasing incidents; pleasing I will
call them, because they have frequently afforded me much amusement;
nor do I envy any man his feelings who is above being pleased with
them. But before any person decides upon the merit of these books,
he should be an eye-witness of the effect they produce on those who
best understand them. I have more than once seen the Arabians in the
desert, sitting round a fire, listening to these stories with such
attention and pleasure as totally to forget the fatigue and hardship
with which, an instant before, they were entirely overcome. In
short, not to dwell any longer on this subject, they are in the same
estimation all over Asia, that the adventures of Don Quixote are in
Spain, and it is presumed no man of genius or taste would think of
making the tour of that country without previously reading the work
of Cervantes.”
To this list of authors, many of whom are still living, I shall now
add the opinion which another illustrious character entertains of
this work, and I trust that by inserting an extract from a letter of
Warren Hastings, Esq. that gentleman will not think I have taken too
great a liberty. He entertains the highest opinion of the original
work, and adds, that “M. Galland has selected the best of the
tales, and rendered those which he has given us, if not quite
faithfully, yet with the costume and manners perfectly correct, and
the language both elegant and Oriental. Our English translation of
his work is mean and coarse beyond criticism.”
Mr. Richardson, at the end of his Arabic Grammar, has given, what he
calls a literal translation of part of one of these tales; any
person, therefore, who is curious to see how far M. Galland has
deviated from the original, may compare the two. The translation
itself is too long for insertion. He takes the story of Alnaschar,
the Barber’s fifth brother; “in which,” he says, “the folly
of aerial castle-building is displayed in an agreeable vein of
humour. I shall endeavour to make the version as literal as
possible, which the reader may compare with the Arabian Nights,
where he will find a greater deviation from the original, than even
a free translation seemed to require.” Mr. Richardson does not, I
believe, give the whole of the tale, even from the manuscript he
made use of; and the other slight circumstances, in which M. Galland
differs from him, may probably have arisen from their making use of
different manuscripts.
In the second volume of M. Galland’s work, he says, in a note,
that the hundred-and-first, and hundred-and-second nights (according
to his division of it,) are, in the original, employed in a
description of the seven different dresses worn by the daughter of
Schemseddin Mohammed (See Vol. 1. page 328, and note 13, of this
translation); and interspersed with poetry in praise of the bride,
which however beautiful it might be in Arabic, would not, he says,
be worth translating into French: and that he has therefore omitted
these two nights. How tiresome the description of these dresses
might be I know not; nor how little suited these particular verses
were to the ear of a Frenchman; but if they be at all similar to
those beautiful specimens with which Professor Carlyle has gratified
our English ear, we certainly have, in this instance, to regret M.
Galland’s omission. And, in proof of this, I shall insert a few
stanzas from the Arabic poetry; particularly as some of them relate
to, or are the production of, persons mentioned in this work; as,
for instance, the caliph Haroun Alraschid, his grand vizier Giafar,
the poet Isaac, &c.
In the history of Noureddin and the Beautiful Persian, Volume III.
p. 53. Haroun Alraschid exclaims, “On my life, I have never heard
so good a voice, nor a better player on the lute; Isaac, whom I
believed to be the best in the world, is much inferior to her.”
The person, here mentioned, is Isaac Almousely, whom the Orientals
esteem as the best musician that was ever known. He was a Persian by
birth, but resided entirely, in the early part of his life, at
Mousel, (Moussoul.) Mahadi, the father of Haroun Alraschid, having
one day, by accident, heard him sing one of his own compositions,
accompanied by his lute, was so delighted with his performance, that
he carried him to Bagdad, and made him his principal musician; in
which situation he continued during the reign of several caliphs.
When Haroun Alraschid succeeded to the throne, which he did after
the death of his elder brother Hadi, Isaac composed the following
verses on his inauguration, and on the appointment of Yahia, the
father of Jaafer (Giafar,) and the founder of the greatness of the
family called the Barmecides.
Th’ affrighted sun ere-while had fled,
And hid his radiant face in night;
A cheerless gloom the world o’erspread--
But Haroun came and all was bright.
Again the sun shoots forth his rays,
Nature is deck’d in Beauty’s robe;
For mighty Haroun’s sceptre sways,
And Yahia’s arm sustains the globe.
Professor Carlyle gives the following instance of the power of music
over the mind of this monarch: Haroun Alraschid having quarrelled
with his mistress, Meridah, left her in a rage, and refused to see
her any more. The lady was in despair, and knew not how to bring
about a reconciliation. In the mean time, the vizier Jaafar,
(Giafar) who had always been the friend of Meridah, sent for
Almousely; and giving him a song composed for the occasion, desired
him to perform it before the caliph, with all the pathos he was
master of. The musician obeyed; and such were the powers he
possessed, that Haroun’s anger was instantly appeased; he rushed
into the presence of Meridah, and taking all the blame of the
quarrel, entreated her to forgive him, and bury every thing that had
passed in eternal oblivion. Ebn Khalican, the historian, adds, that
both Haroun and the lady instantly rewarded the minister and
musician with a considerable present.
As the family of the Barmecides is mentioned very often, in several
parts of this work, it may not be improper to give a slight sketch
of them, especially as it was Haroun Alraschid who not only
increased the power and interest which they first acquired under his
father, but who also effected their ruin. The family of Barmec was
descended from the ancient Persian monarchs, and was very rich; but
it was at the court of Bagdad that the Barmecides arrived at their
full splendour. The character of the first, who was thus
distinguished, was that of a man possessed of great virtue and great
talents. He was called Yahia Ben Khaled, the same that was
celebrated in the preceding verses; and that was appointed by Mahadi
governor to his son Haroun Alraschid, who, when he succeeded to the
throne, appointed him grand vizier; and when old age obliged him to
resign that office, his second son, Jaafer, (Giafar) was appointed
in his place. The abilities of the son equalled those of the father.
“He was the most admired writer, and most eloquent speaker, of his
age;” and while in office, “he displayed the accuracy of a man
of business and the comprehensive ideas of a statesman.” His
former acquirements, however, caused him to become the companion, as
well as the minister, of the caliph, who at last grew so much
attached to him, that he appointed his elder brother, Fadhel, grand
vizier in his place, that the affairs of the state might not deprive
him of the pleasure of his society. For seventeen years these
brothers were all-powerful; when, at once, the whole family were
involved in disgrace; and the ill-treatment they experienced must
eternally stain the character of Haroun. The cause of their disgrace
is uncertain; Professor Carlyle gives the following as most
probable. “The Khaliph had a sister, called Abassa, of whom he was
passionately fond, and whose company he preferred to every thing but
the conversation of Jaafer. These two pleasures he would fain have
joined together by carrying Jaafar with him in his visits to Abassa;
but the laws of the haram, which forbad any one, except a near
relation, from being introduced there, made that impossible; and he
was obliged to be absent either from his sister or his favourite. At
length he discovered a method, which he hoped would enable him to
enjoy, at the same time, the society of these two persons, who were
so dear to him. This was to unite Jaafar and Abassa in marriage.
They were married accordingly, but with this express condition, that
they should never meet but in the presence of the khaliph.
“Their interviews, however, were very frequent; and as neither
could be insensible of the amiable qualities which the other
possessed, a mutual affection took place between them. Blinded by
their passion they forgot the khaliph’s injunction, and the
consequences of their interview were but too apparent. Abassa was
delivered of a son, whom they privately sent to be educated at Mecca.
“For some time their amour was concealed from Alraschid; but the
khaliph having at length received intelligence of it, he gave way to
his rage, and determined to take the most severe revenge. In
consequence of this cruel resolve, he immediately commanded Jaafar
to be put to death, and the whole race of Barmec to be deprived of
their possessions, and thrown into prison. These orders were obeyed.
Jaafer was beheaded in the antichamber of the royal apartment,
whither he had come to request an interview with the implacable
Haroun: and his father and brothers, perished in confinement.” The
destruction of this family was looked upon as a general calamity;
“all of whom,” says an Eastern writer, “enjoyed the singular
felicity of being loved as much, when in the plenitude of their
power, as in a private station; and of being praised as much, after
their disgrace and ruin, as when they were at the summit of their
prosperity.” The following verses were written on their fall:
No, Barmec! time hath never shewn
So sad a change of wayward fate;
Nor sorrowing mortals ever known
A grief so true, a loss so great.
Spouse of the world! Thy soothing breast
Did balm to every woe afford;
And now no more by thee caress’d,
The widow’d world bewails her lord.
The following lines were spoken extempore by Ibrahim Ben Adham, a
hermit of Syria, who was equally admired for his piety and his
poetry, upon meeting Haroun Alraschid going to Mecca with a
magnificent train, as Ibrahim himself was returning from his
pilgrimage to that place, which he performed quite alone, and
without making any provision for his journey.
Religion's gems can ne'er adorn
The flimsy robe by Pleasure worn,
Its feeble texture soon would tear,
And give those jewels to the air.
Thrice happy they, who seek th’ abode
Of peace and pleasure in their God!
Who spurn the world, its joys despise,
And grasp at bliss beyond the skies.
Although the little poem, which comes next has no apparent
connection with any particular part of this work, I cannot help
inserting it from that beautiful vein of feeling which runs through
every line. It was sung before the caliph Wathek, the grandson of
Haroun Alraschid, as a specimen of the author’s talents.